


Five Times Brendon Ran Into Spencer, and One Time Spencer Didn't Mind

by EdgarAllenPoet



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F, Genderswap, Useless Lesbians, five times fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-08-08 08:42:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7750891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EdgarAllenPoet/pseuds/EdgarAllenPoet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Then the girl snapped, “Dude, are you like, obsessed with me?” and Brendon had no idea what the hell she was talking about. </p><p>She had never seen this girl before in her life."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Brendon Ran Into Spencer, and One Time Spencer Didn't Mind

1.

Sophomore year was where it was at.  Brendon knew where most of her classroom buildings were, she knew her way around campus and around town, she knew how late the cafeterias were open and where to get cheap food at two a.m., and she had a sick new pair of rollerblades.  Things were really looking up.

 

Until suddenly they were looking down, because she maybe hadn’t been paying close enough attention to the sidewalk in front of her.

 

“Ouch, _shit._ ” The girl she’d ran into was sitting on the pavement next to her inspecting a scraped up elbow and grimacing.  Brendon felt awful.  She attempted to leap to her feet and help her up, but, yknow… rollerblades.  She promptly fell right back down on her ass.

 

The other girl didn’t look very happy about that.  Her hair was brown and hung just under her jawline, but long enough for her bangs to fall in front of her eyes as she glared at Brendon.  Brendon felt self-conscious about her own haircut, which she'd only recently gotten a few days ago.  She wasn't used to having the sides shaved yet and wasn't sure how it looked.  This girl, though.  She looked fantastic.  She was wearing a red school polo shirt with a name tag that said, ‘Spencer’ on it.  Either she stolen that nametag from somebody else, or she and Brendon were meant to be best friends.  Brendon believed in solidarity between girls whose parents had given them boy’s names.

 

Brendon looked up at the group of kids who were laughing at them.  They all looked a bit fresh scrubbed and had a sort of euphoric air about them: freshman.  You could spot them anywhere.  Brendon felt a bit guilty about interrupting their tour.

 

“Okay, let’s get a move on,” Spencer said, climbing to her feet easily without any roller blades to mess her up.  She reached a hand down generously, and Brendon accepted, pulling herself to her feet.  She nearly lost her balance again, gripping onto Spencer’s arm for dear life.  The look on Spencer’s face was edging away from irritated and closer towards homicidal, so Brendon released her quickly and pushed off, rolling easily between the crowd of freshmen that parted for her like the red sea.

 

“Sorry bout that!” she yelled over her shoulder.  “Have a good tour! Bye!”

 

She turned back forwards, before she could smack into anyone else, and face palmed.  She couldn’t be cool for even five seconds; she really couldn’t.  It was tragic.  But it was also sophomore year, and things were looking up.  Brendon decided to focus on that and rolled along happily.

 

* * *

  
2.

Brendon’s dorm (ahem.  Excuse me, _residence hall_ ) this year was fucking wicked.  Freshman year she’d been in some shell of a building, that had beds, bathrooms, elevators, and literally nothing else.  This one was perfect.  It had a kitchen downstairs, it had a laundry room _inside_ , and it had couches that didn’t look like they’d been debauched by at least half the student body.  

 

The couches were nice, but it was the laundry room that currently had Brendon in trouble.  She lived on the fourth floor, and the laundry room was on the first.  Thanks to a bet she’d taken from her friend Shane (and he was going _down_ , man), she couldn’t use elevators for the next month.  Not if she wanted to earn the gram of weed Shane had sworn he could get for her.  She already had a job, so there were no drug tests to worry about.  It was _time_ , man.  It was going to be lit.

 

It was also a bit exhausting, because she’d put her laundry off as long as humanly possible.  The third week of classes was coming to an end and she was officially out of t-shirts that didn’t smell like death.  That left her with a laundry basket about as heavy as she was, and she’d nearly fallen down the stairs twice trying to carry it down.  When she finally got there, she’d snagged the very last empty washing machine just to realize she’d forgotten her detergent packets upstairs.

 

Well fuck. “Watch this for me?” she asked the skinny kid next to her.  He was the kind of boy who looked like he’d been beaten up in high school, but then again, so was she.  She had no room to talk.  Either way, she wasn’t sure he’d do a very good job defending her washing machine for her, so she just took off running.

 

If going downstairs was tough, running back up them was even worse.  She was practically winded by the time she slammed into her dorm room, ignoring the pained groaning from her half-asleep roommate.  She grabbed the detergent and bolted back out of the room, just to run dab smack into what must have been a brick wall.  When did they put a wall there?  

 

“Owwwwww,” she complained, sitting up and glaring, just to find another girl glaring back at her.

 

“What the fuck?” the girl snapped at her.  Brendon blinked.  This girl was pretty, but also very mean.  It was confusing.  To be fair, Brendon had accidentally shoved her to the ground, but it had been an _accident_.  This was a washing machine emergency.  People should respect that.

 

“Don’t you ever watch where you’re going?” the girl asked, and that was just unnecessary.  She didn’t know Brendon.  She didn’t know her life.  And sure, maybe Brendon ran into a lot of things on a day-to-day basis, but this girl didn’t know that- her and her dumb baseball cap and her stupidly blue eyes and her awesomely large tits-

 

This was what Brendon’s friends liked to refer to as a “useless lesbian moment.”  Brendon shook herself out of it quickly and silently scolded herself for objectifying other women.  What kind of a feminist was she?  A gay one, apparently, but still. It was time to focus on the more important things in life, like laundry.

 

Fuck, laundry.

 

Brendon jumped up to her feet and shouted, “Sorry!” before running off down the hallway and flying down the stairs.  The boy from earlier was nowhere to be found when she reached the laundry room, and she just saved her machine from being taken over by a junior boy on her hall.

 

* * *

  
3.

Brendon was totally late for her COM 101 class, which was a Goddamn shame, considering communications was her major.  Even worse, her speech outline was due that day, and if she didn’t turn it in, she wouldn’t be allowed to speak.  If she didn’t speak, she would fail.  If she failed that speech, she would fail the class, and Brendon could _not_ be a communications major that failed COM 101.  She just couldn’t.  It wasn’t an option.

 

The thing is, Brendon felt like shit.  She’d felt like shit the night before, something she’d eaten tearing her stomach to shreds.  She’d been dead on her feet exhausted for over a week now, but after only sleeping maybe an hour the night prior, Brendon just felt like shit warmed over, microwaved on the popcorn setting of the shitty little microwave in her buddy’s dorm room.  

 

She’d woken up to her alarm and a headache and said, fuck it, no.  She was skipping her classes today.  She skipped math, because math was stupid and she sucked at it, and she’d had every intention of skipping com as well until her phone chirped with a text from her friend Linda.

 

 **U finished editing ur outline for class today, right?**  It said, and no, Brendon hadn’t even started editing her outline, oh my God.

 

Forty minutes later, Brendon had a half-assed outline clutched tight in her fist as she sprinted across campus as fast as her legs could carry her.  Class would be over in ten minutes, and she was hoping and praying that their professor hadn’t decided to release them early for the first time all semester.  She took the stairs three at a time, running on pure adrenaline alone, and was rounding the corner to her classroom when someone ran right into her.  She saw an impressive scatter of papers and the splash of a cup of coffee, and Brendon was normally the kind of good person that would stop to help the other person clean up.  Today was an exception, though, and she had absolutely no time to waste.  

 

She leapt back to her feet and sprinted down the hallway, and she managed to slide her paper onto the pile in the back of the room just as her professor was closing up her last slide.

 

* * *

  
4. 

It wasn’t her fault that Shane was an asshole, or that Dallon and Kenny and Ian were also assholes.  It wasn’t her fault that Shane took her glasses, literally off her face, and then took off running.  That kind of behavior simply required ass kicking, and Kenny shouting, “Go get him, princess!” only made her more determined.

 

Shane should have known better, but of course he didn’t, so it was basically necessary for Brendon to chase him down the hall and full body tackle him onto the ground.  If he broke her glasses, she was going to kill him, because she didn’t have the money to replace them by herself and she’d have to sit through another one of her mother’s talks about being _responsible_ and acting like a _lady_ and getting her shit together, not that her mom would phrase it that way.

 

So Brendon ran after Shane and tackled him, quite impressively in her own opinion.  She hadn’t had time to consider anyone else being in the hallway, but she figured collateral damage was worth it to get her glasses back.  Who didn’t love a good wrestling match anyways?

 

Apparently the girl they plowed into didn’t, judging by the way she socked Shane in the shoulder, kicked Brendon in the hip, and then stormed away with some skinny boy following after her, snickering like a crazy person.  She grumbled something about “...fucking children…” as she went, but Brendon couldn’t care less.  She wrapped herself around Shane in a headlock until he was wheezing, and then she was able to snatch her glasses back and skip away happily.

 

* * *

 

5. 

Brendon really didn’t mean to run into her at the cafeteria.  She was exhausted, and not entirely awake yet even though it was nearly one p.m.  She just wanted to take her plate of fries and hide out with her headphones on and not think about the paper she had to write before ten a.m. tomorrow.  She was pretty engrossed in that process, precariously balancing a plate of fries, a bowl of ranch, and a glass of Coke in her hands as she tiptoed through the busy cafeteria.  She didn’t mean to run into anyone, but the next thing she knew there was cereal and ranch scattered everywhere.  

 

The girl- Brendon had thought she was a boy at first, but no- stuck Brendon with the most vicious glare Brendon had seen in a long time.  She felt herself shrinking up, scared and nervous the way she’d felt almost all of freshman year, and that wasn’t exactly fair.  She hadn’t meant to run into this girl, and she was a _sophomore_ now.  She wasn’t supposed to feel scared and anxious.  This was her year, damn it.

 

The girl opened her mouth, and Brendon braced herself for yelling.  It would be the usual, she figured, the “watch where you’re going” and “God, you’re such a clutz,” and “what the fuck man?”  But then the girl snapped, “Dude, are you like, obsessed with me?” and Brendon had no idea what the hell she was talking about.

 

She had never seen this girl before in her life.

 

“What?” she asked.  The other girl’s scowl darkened, somehow.  

 

“You keep running into me _everywhere_!  I’m fucking sick of it.  Just leave me alone and watch where you’re going for once, would you!?”  

 

Brendon’s cheeks were heating up, humiliated from being yelled at in the middle of the cafeteria, in front of the poor boy whose job it was to sweet up the mess she’d made.

 

“Um…” she said.  “Sorry…?”

 

The girl scoffed and stormed away, leaving Brendon there with the boy, who didn’t seem to mind cleaning at all.  He barely looked awake, so he must have been pretty bored.  

 

“Rough, man,” the boy said, proving that he was in fact away.  

 

Brendon sighed, “Yeah…” and walked away to get more fries.

 

* * *

* * *

  
  
1.

Girls sucked, Brendon decided on her walk home.  Girls sucked, and boys sucked, and everyone sucked, and she had to stop crying before she got back to her dorm room, because then Sarah would ask her what was wrong and Brendon really didn’t feel like explaining how pathetic she was to her roommate.  

 

Not when Sarah was beautiful and perfect and probably never had to put up with this bullshit ever.  Besides, Brendon had been going on and on all day about how _great_ this date was going to be, and about how totally into her Breezy was, and how they were destined to be, since they both had B names.  Wow, she was an idiot.  Brendon was just so angry; she couldn’t believe it.  She’d been so certain that Breezy had been into her, but she’d just been trying to get to Dallon, and sure they were cute together but Brendon was too hurt to care.  She was such an idiot.  Fucking straight girls.

 

What was worse was when one of those assholes, Alex or something dumb like that, cornered her by the bathroom and spun half-drunk lyrical about giving a real man a chance.  It had gotten heated, because Brendon had been mostly certain she left that kind of homophobic bullshit behind when she left home.  When she’d slammed the door closed behind her, it was to Alex shouting “Fucking dyke!” at her back, and now she couldn’t stop crying.

 

She was pathetic, obviously.  She needed to get her shit together.

 

She was back on campus, at least.  That was good, considering Brendon had a reputation for getting hopelessly lost basically everywhere.  It was only another five minutes before she’d be able to crawl into bed, turn on Netflix, and just stop thinking about tonight.  

 

She had her hood up and her head down, and she wasn’t exactly paying attention to where she was going because it wasn’t like the walkways were crowded at night anyways.  She didn’t see anyone in front of her until she bumped right into them.

 

“Fuck,” she said when she saw who it was, sniffling and feeling like the world’s biggest idiot.  It was melodramatic, sure, but she’d had a bad night.  “I’m sorry, I-”

 

“Are you crying?” the girl asked.  She sounded a lot different when she wasn’t biting Brendon’s head off in the dining hall.  It caught Brendon off guard.

 

“Huh?”

 

“Are you okay?” She looked genuinely concerned, and it was baffling, considering the last time they’d met she’d been pretty dead set on hating Brendon.  Brendon was hypersensitive to kind eyes at that moment, and she honestly didn’t stand a chance with the way the girl was looking at her.  

 

She let out a quiet chuckle and said, “No.  No, not really.”

 

The other girl caught her bottom lip between her teeth and chewed it for a second before glancing over at the door to their building and then back to Brendon.  “We were just about to watch a movie,” she said. “You wanna tag along maybe?”  

 

Brendon wasn’t sure who ‘we’ were, or why this girl was being so nice to her when they didn’t even know each other, but a movie would be a good distraction from the pity Brendon was currently wallowing in.  Plus, then she wouldn’t have to face Sarah.  She nodded.  

 

“Sure… I- thanks,” she said.  The other girl smiled, wide and dazzling.

 

“Cool,” she said, then turned and shouted towards the building, “Ryan! Wait up, you asshole!”

 

Brendon laughed, reminded of the way she and her own friends interacted.  “You coming?” the girl asked her, holding her hand out.  Brendon smiled a bit and took it.  Her hand was warm, and Brendon felt a bit less panicky as she followed this girl and her friend inside.

 

**Author's Note:**

> the world needs more cute gay girl stories damn it.


End file.
